


The Beauty of a Secret

by phenomenology



Series: Kanera Week [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Kanera Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomenology/pseuds/phenomenology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanera Week Day Three: prompt - undercover<br/>Things are getting more and more dangerous for Kanan and Hera, their missions taking on more risk than they bargained for. But they've started growing closer, and maybe it's not as bad as they feared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beauty of a Secret

Hera stared at herself in the mirror, her hands holding the bodice of the gown up against her collarbone. She sighed tightly and pressed her lips together. These types of gowns never were her favorite; they always showed far too much skin for Hera’s taste. Of course, they looked lovely on others, but on herself…well she preferred her flight suit.

A knock on her door startled Hera from her thoughts. She glanced back and called out, knowing it to be Kanan, “Come in!”

The door slid open, Kanan stepping inside and smiling at her. He was wearing a formal military uniform, the dark grey color looking good against his skin color. As he walked over to her, he adjusted the buttons of his sleeve, loosening them.

“These disguises are rather stuffy, aren’t they?” he chuckled; reaching up to help Hera fasten the collar behind her neck. His warm fingers brushed against the nape of her neck, sending little shivers racing up and down her spine. She let out a huff of air and adjusted the way the gossamer gown sat on her before turning to face Kanan.

“They are indeed. The sooner we get this mission over with, the better.” Hera couldn’t remember if she had ever gotten this dressed up in her life. The gown she wore was a bright ombre of yellow into a pale orange, a stark contrast to the pigment of her skin. She had matching ribbons wound and crisscrossing down her lekku. Somehow she had even found cheap golden armbands and bracelets to really sell her look.

And she despised the outfit. As she had been thinking before, she preferred her flight suit to anything like this.

“Okay,” she sighed, resigned to her misery for a few hours. “Are you clear on our cover story? Should we go over it again?” She was only this tense because of the outfit – and she knew that Kanan knew that. She was, however, hoping to disguise her distaste.

Kanan gave her a knowing look anyway, smiling at her sympathetically. He knew his alias backward and forward, but he indulged her anyway.

“My name is Gregor Carr, a low-ranking military official who is important enough to be invited to Grand Moff Tarkin’s promotional gala. I’m from Naboo originally, but I’ve been stationed on Christophsis for a while. And you…” Kanan trailed off, waiting for Hera to continue with her alias.

“I’m your wife,” Hera’s stomach fluttered. Even if this was just a cover story, the very thought gave her butterflies. “My name is Rilla Carr, and we’ve been together for a few years. We’re honored to be at Moff Tarkin’s promotional gala, and yes I would _love_ to talk about things that hold no political standing whatsoever.” Her voice drawled in an annoyed tone over the last part of her sentence, drawing a smirk to Kanan’s lips.

“I think we’re ready; although you may want to say that last part with a little less sarcasm.” Kanan leaned reached over to carefully adjust the twist of one of Hera’s lekku bands. She fought to stay calm, his gentle touch sending even more shivers through her body.

“Why aren’t you wearing your gloves?” she asked abruptly, pulling away from his touch. She couldn’t really read the expression on his face, and she honestly didn’t want to think about it at the moment. Turning around, she found the sleek black gloves laid out on the table near her bed. Grabbing them, she turned to him and gestured for him to hold out his hands.

Kanan raised an eyebrow at her but held out one hand for Hera. She took one glove and started to gently tug it on over his hand. Keeping her eyes trained on what she was doing, she sighed tightly.

“This has to work,” she murmured under her breath, mostly for her own ears. But Kanan, obviously, heard her statement. 

“It will, Hera. Everything will be fine. Your contact hasn’t been wrong so far.” There was a slight hesitation before Kanan spoke up again. “Are you doubting them? Did they tell you something that I should know that you haven’t told me?” 

Shaking her head, Hera started working on pulling on his other glove. “No, it’s not that. I’ve told you everything I know from them. But this is…this isn’t just a milk run or a search and destroy mission. We’re – Kanan what are we doing? We’re going into the home of an _Imperial official._ ”

Hera had a vice-like grip on Kanan’s wrist, having pulled his glove on all the way. Kanan grabbed her hands in his and gave them a little squeeze. He caught Hera’s eye and held her gaze as he spoke to her in a reassuring voice.

“Hera, we will get through this. I don’t believe that your contact would send us into this if they thought it was too dangerous. We’re just going in and bugging Moff Tarkin’s house. We go in, we mingle, we bug, and we leave.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Hera sighed. “This is dangerous territory Kanan. We can’t afford to mess up.”

“Hera,” Kanan pulled his hands gently from hers, moving them to rest comfortingly on her shoulders. Now that his hands were covered with the leather gloves, the gesture didn’t mess with her head as much as before. But it got her attention all the same. Looking up, she was startled to find the determined fire in his eyes.

“We will be okay. This mission is going to be successful.”

Hera stared back at Kanan for a few moments, finding herself convinced by the sincerity in his voice, but still feeling anxious about the whole situation. Eventually, she resigned herself to Kanan’s belief in the mission and nodded.

“Okay. Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late.”

Kanan released her shoulders, giving her a small nod. “I’ll go prep the Phantom. We’ll head out in five.” He started for the door to Hera’s cabin, pausing and glancing back at her.

He met her eyes and said, “I really do believe in this mission. I wasn’t just saying that.” Kanan smiled softly, one side of his mouth quirking just a little farther upward than the other side. He left the cabin, letting the door slide shut after him.

Hera turned back to the mirror, staring at her reflection for a couple of heartbeats. She still hated the way her shoulders looked – bare and exposed – and the gown looked absolutely ridiculous on her. But she felt much more confident in their mission, and perhaps Kanan was right about their mission. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her handbag and flashed her most pleasant smile at her reflection.

_I can do this_ , she thought to herself.

* * *

Hera stared up at Moff Tarkin’s house, eyes wide as Kanan made sure the Phantom would be ready to go in case they needed to make a quick escape. And while she sincerely hoped that things would not come to that, Hera was having a little trouble focusing on anything but the sheer size of Tarkin’s mansion before her. 

The house was taller and longer than anything Hera had ever seen before. The architecture was absurdly intricate, confusing her eye if she looked too closely at one part too long. There was a magnitude of Senators, delegates, and Imperial officials climbing the front steps of the house. She probably could have stood there staring at the house for hours. But Kanan’s gentle hand on her elbow drew her back down to earth.

“You ready?” he asked softly, offering her his arm.

Taking a steadying breath, Hera looped her arm through his and nodded. Donning her best smile again, they started towards the entrance, clearances in hand. As they got closer, the volume of couples and guests grew denser and denser. The stares directed in Hera’s direction also increased. She had expected this – considering it was an Imperial event – but that didn’t mean she was anymore comfortable with it.

Hera fought to keep a neutral and somewhat pleasant look on her face, even as her grip on Kanan’s arm tightened significantly. His free hand covered hers where it was gripping his elbow.

“Steady,” he murmured. “Just keep walking.”

Grateful for his sturdy presence, Hera took a breath and continued up the steps, through the door – their clearances easily getting them inside – and soon the pair found themselves gazing around a large ballroom filled with people. The ceiling arched high above their heads, the detailed architecture of the outside continuing inside as well. Expecting mingling and dancing, the middle of the floor had been cleared of obstacles with the buffet tables shoved towards the outside edges of the room. Hera and Kanan exchanged looks before diving into the fray.

Not even ten minutes into the gala, Hera had decided that socializing with the upper class Imperials was much more terrifying than any fire fight she had ever been in. There was something about the way they looked down their noses at her that just set Hera on edge. She wanted to punch every single one of them in the throat. Unfortunately, Kanan was there to act as moral compass and stayed her twitching hand.

“Good evening,” Kanan offered a polite, stiff nod to the millionth official in half an hour. “My name is Gregor Carr, and this is my wife Rilla.”

And for the millionth time, Hera’s stomach fluttered with butterflies as she offered her own nod to the official and the woman on his arm. Kanan and the official – whose name Hera had not bothered to catch – started making small talk about regimes and what was happening on what world. Hera hadn’t realized that Kanan had done _that_ much research. The official’s partner tried to engage Hera in conversation, but Hera quickly excused herself with the alibi of needing to use the ‘fresher.

Wandering through the halls, Hera desperately ran over the mansion’s floor plans – plans that she had furiously studied and memorized beforehand. Slightly disoriented at first, she managed to figure out where she was and started ducking into various different rooms. The bugs that her contact had provided them with were practically microscopic, easy enough to plant and hard to notice if you weren’t paying attention. And she had been assured that most bug detectors wouldn’t be able to pick up on their signal.

Slipping cautiously from the library, Hera steadied herself and started to head down the long hallway that would take her to Tarkin’s personal study. She was expecting to be met with some kind of defenses or security guarding the office. What she did not expect, however, was to run directly into Tarkin himself. He was with some other official – a high ranking one if the ornaments on his uniform were anything to go by.

“Oh! Excuse me, sir,” Hera apologized immediately, voice slipping into an innocent and airy tone. She bowed her head, even curtsying a little for effect. This was not the situation she had been prepared to deal with, and her heartbeat was already starting to accelerate.

“Well, well,” the other official leered at Hera, eyes very obviously roaming up and down her figure. “What would someone like you be doing so far from the festivities?”

_I could ask you the same thing_ , Hera thought venomously. But she knew that she had to keep up appearances. She couldn’t blow her cover this deep into the operation.

“Oh well, I was hoping to see Grand Moff Tarkin’s office,” she answered sweetly, smiling at them. Tarkin and the official exchanged surprised looks, very obviously thrown by Hera’s response. She laughed daintily, shaking her head lightly and resorting to a sort of flirtatious body language. 

“Oh goodness, I was just kidding. I’ve actually become frightfully turned around while looking for the ‘fresher. This house is so magnificent I couldn’t possibly find my way back to the gala, let alone a ‘fresher!”

The other official, who Hera was _really_ not getting a good vibe from smiled possessively down at her. He took a few steps toward her and it took all of Hera’s willpower to not punch him and bolt. She looked down and took a timid step back. However, this unfortunately pinned her between the official and the wall behind her. The official’s hand pressed against the wall just above her head, making her feel so much smaller than she already did.

“Well, if you’re lost, perhaps I can return you to your escort for the evening.” Hera highly doubted that was actually what he wanted to do. “And who might that be?”

“My husband,” Hera said matter-of-factly, still getting butterflies at the thought, despite the situation. “Gregor Carr. He’s been stationed on Christophsis for some time now, but we live on his home planet of Naboo.”

“Hmm, Carr…” the official pondered the name with what was probably very little thought. “Doesn’t seem to be ringing any bells. I doubt he has much influence, which means I could mess around with his little toy and he won’t put up much of a fuss.”

As he spoke, the official slowly dragged his hand down Hera’s bare arm, starting at her shoulder and continuing to just above her hand. She shivered – and not in the same way she had when Kanan’s fingers had brushed against her skin. This was driven by disgust and fear. She had to get out of this situation while still maintaining her cover.

“I apologize, sir,” she said tightly. “But I am not my husband’s _toy_. Which means I would very much appreciate it if you _took your hands off of me._ ”

Hera knew that she was playing a very dangerous game. The Empire looked down upon species that were not human’s or humanoids that very closely resembled humans. And unfortunately for Hera, Twi’lek’s had already been severely looked down upon before the rise of the Empire. One wrong move…and she could be in more trouble than she wanted.

The official did not take kindly to her tone, making it very obvious in the way he gripped her bicep in his gloved hand. The leather material chaffed uncomfortably against her skin, causing Hera to wince.

“Don’t talk back to me, tail-head,” the official spat at Hera. The derogatory name left a bad taste in Hera’s mouth. She was seriously considering whaling on this guy, mission be damned. “You’re just some lowly official’s plaything and no matter what relationship titled you’ve given it, that doesn’t change what you are.”

The accusations and insults cut deep, ripping old wounds open with a vengeance. Hera was about to make a spitting remark when a familiar voice sounded just down the hall.

“And what would that be, if I might ask?” Kanan’s arms were folded across his chest as he glared at the official pinning Hera to the wall. “While you’re thinking of an excuse, I must kindly ask you to take your hands off my wife.”

Hera had never been so relieved to see anyone in her entire life. She didn’t even notice the fact that calling her his wife didn’t affect Hera in the slightest. The moment the official’s grip on her arm slackened, Hera wrenched her arm free and dashed to Kanan’s side. His arm slid protectively across her shoulders, his touch far more gentle than the bruising grip the official had left on her arm.

“I must be honest, Grand Moff,” Kanan said venomously. “I expected more from officials directly under your command.”

Tarkin simply stared emotionlessly back at the couple standing before him. He strode up to stand beside the official who had developed an extreme interest in the pattern of the carpet. The Grand Moff hardly spared the official a glance before letting out a short breath.

“While it is not your place to question my tactics or my chain of command, Mr. Carr,” Tarkin’s voice was icy as he spoke down at Kanan. “I do believe you are correct. I apologize for the behavior displayed here. Please continue to enjoy the gala downstairs.”

Kanan nodded tightly and gently guided Hera away from the Imperials. He remained silent as they navigated the maze of corridors and passageways of Tarkin’s mansion. Hera could feel the tension radiating off of Kanan, the hand on her shoulder hovering stiffly above her shoulder. Once the din of the gala could be heard, Kanan stopped and turned to face Hera.

“Did they hurt you? What happened back there? Did they make you? Do we need to leave?” His sudden bombardment of questions left Hera’s head spinning for a moment. She shook her head and took a steadying breath. Reaching up, she gripped Kanan’s hand on her shoulder and tried to reassure him. 

“They didn’t hurt me. I’m okay, Kanan,” she said softly, imploring him with her eyes to understand she was telling the truth. “I managed to plant the bugs everywhere but in his study. Although, I don’t think we will be able to get in there. They didn’t make me, but they will definitely be on high alert now.” Saying this out loud, Hera suddenly felt guilty, the weight of their now failed mission settling on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I got careless and wasn’t paying attention when I was trying to find the study.”

Kanan shook his head and took her hand in his. “You did well, Hera. I managed to plant my bugs, but if you think it’s too risky, we can head out now. Besides,” the corner of Kanan’s mouth quirked upward in a bitter smirk. “I think I’ve talked to every official here and had the same conversation each time. I’m past ready to leave.”

Hera laughed behind her hand and shook her head. “I’m with you. I don’t think I can take another round of small talk with an official’s wife. I might actually end up hitting someone.”

Kanan offered Hera his arm mockingly, which Hera mockingly accepted as they headed back into the gala hall. Slipping rather easily through the crowd, Hera couldn’t help but think about how they must look. And of course, she couldn’t help but wonder if their relationship would ever turn into something more. When she thought about it, Hera smiled at the thought of being with Kanan.

_Well,_ she thought happily, smiling at the back of Kanan’s head as he led them through the crowd. _I’m not against it._


End file.
